


Collar Me Surprised

by Sybilina



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: BDSM, Blow Jobs, Bondage, Cock Rings, Collars, Cunnilingus, D/s, Dom Lydia, Flogging, Pegging, Prostate Massage, Sub Stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-14
Updated: 2014-09-14
Packaged: 2018-02-17 07:44:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2301944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sybilina/pseuds/Sybilina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the prompt: Bodyguard/Celebrity.  Wherein Lydia is the bodyguard and Stiles is the celebrity.  Beyond the public eye, however, they're a little bit more than that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Collar Me Surprised

**Author's Note:**

> Part of the 40 Fics in 80 Days Challenge. I'll organize them better later. (In other words, there WILL be more, though not all of the same pairing.)

It wasn't Stiles's first movie premiere, all cameras flashing and spiffy clothing, people on all sides yelling his name and asking for photographs, interviewers trying to get a word in here and there. He ignored them, let them snap a few photos of him and his co-star, let his hands linger around Derek's waist to give the magazines something to talk about, playing the Dom to Derek's sub like in the movie.  
  
It wasn't his first walk down a red carpet but it was the first time Lydia had insisted on accompanying him.  
  
“I look like a child needing mommy to hold my hand across the street,” he'd said on the way there.  
  
“Okay, that's all kinds of wrong. Don't compare me to your mom, I'm your bodyguard. That's what bodyguards do. And this is a little more dangerous than crossing the street.” In the mirror, she'd been primping her hair and double checking her make-up but he knew she was also looking behind them, checking to see if anyone was following them.  
  
“This is a perfectly safe venue. There are guards everywhere, look, that's the fifth police cruiser I've seen drive by.”  
  
“Look, I'll stay out of the photos. I'll let you do your thing. But I'm walking with you down the red carpet, end of discussion.”  
  
He shot a glare at Lydia, just inches away, looking every part the trusted bodyguard, acting very much like an overprotective Domme to no one except him. Maybe he was schmoozing with Derek for reasons other than magazine gossip.  
  
She might have had a point, though. The last couple of years, even more so the last few weeks, had shown an increase in threatening comments online, both on chat forums and blogs but also in direct emails and letters to Stiles. It never ceased to amaze him why people would send things like that but someone had once told him you're not successful until you receive a death threat.  
  
Being overprotective himself, his father had insisted on getting him a bodyguard. Considering he was now bordering on a famous actor and he was the son of a rising politician, he couldn't really blame his father that one.  
  
Besides, it had led to Lydia.  
  
“She knows she can't go inside, right?” Derek whispered to him as they posed for another photograph.  
  
“You try denying Lydia when she's determined, I dare you.”  
  
Derek smirked. “That's entirely your area, not mine.”  
  
“Where's Erica, anyway?” Erica was Derek's girlfriend and Domme, and she also happened to be Lydia's most trusted coworker. If ever Lydia was unavailable for one of these stints, Erica was the first person she called to replace her.  
  
“Boyd had a thing tonight so she's with him instead. They wanted to be here but...” He shrugged. “Things happen.”  
  
Stiles glanced back at Lydia who was all but ignoring them.  
  
Derek was lucky – he had not just Erica as his Domme but also Boyd, a Switch, as his significant others. And while he hadn't been collared yet, it was still common knowledge that he was spoken for by not just one but two very strong, very protective people. Derek got threatening messages, sure, but it was nowhere near how many Stiles was getting. Clearly, it paid to be open about having two Dominants as your lovers.  
  
Inside, Lydia luckily staying by the door with all the other guards and security, Stiles found a seat with Derek. “Got anything lined up after this?” he asked, fiddling with his phone and smiling at the text his father had sent him earlier.  
  
“Yeah, actually. Or I hope. Got called in for an audition yesterday. Sounded promising.” Derek fiddled with his tie and Stiles reached over and smacked his hand. “What about you?”  
  
Stiles shook his head. “Taking a break. Trying to focus on other things in my life right now.”  
  
“Other things?” Derek said with a smirk and his eyebrows did a dance.  
  
“Other things,” Stiles said in affirmation. “Friends. Family. Significant others. You know the drill.”  
  
“What, you want to settle down and start a family?” Derek teased.  
  
It brought Stiles up short. Did he want to start a family? Maybe not, but he certainly felt like he was ready for the next step and wasn't that essentially the beginning of starting a family?  
  
“Shit,” Derek muttered. “I didn't mean to tease.”  
  
“No, it's fine, it's, whatever, it's not a big deal,” Stiles said, trying to recover. If he let that much slip to Derek, would Derek tell Erica? If that happened, it would definitely get back to Lydia and he'd have shit from her for at least a week.  
  
“It's... kind of a big deal. You should talk about it,” he said.  
  
Stiles side-eyed Derek. “Look at you, all one with the communication.” Derek's ears went pink and Stiles grinned but didn't stop. “I remember when we were wee lads in drama school and the professors all called you Botox. Didn't it take you three years to even crack a smile?”  
  
“Shut up,” Derek said. “It only took one year. And I've come a long way since then.”  
  
Stiles chuckled and patted his hand. “True, I'll give you that.”  
  
Still, what did it say about Stiles and his relationship if he couldn't communicate? When Derek, he of few words and communicating mostly through eyebrows, was telling him to talk about it?  
  
Not that he hadn't brought it up. They'd been dating for months now, coming up on their first year anniversary, and Lydia had yet to collar him. It wasn't like collaring was a promise ring or anything like that. A big commitment, sure, but he'd been drooling over collars since a month after they'd started dating, and he'd been pestering her about a collar for the last few weeks.  
  
But every time he brought it up, she shot him down, to the point where he'd stopped talking about it.  
  
He hadn't stopped thinking about it, though.  
  
Now that the can was open, the thoughts dove right in and all he could think about throughout the entire premiere was Lydia and collars, to the point where he was keyed and agitated up by the end. There was an after party he was supposed to go to, which he should go to considering there were people to schmooze and connections to make and maintain, alcohol to drink. But he was relieved when Lydia nodded at him after the event, motioning to the car for them to go home.  
  
The car ride was silent, Lydia looking out the windows checking for suspicious activity and Stiles getting lost inside his own mind.  
  
When they got home though, Lydia's fingers hooked in his belt loops before he'd even gotten two steps in.  
  
“What's got you all fidgety?” she asked. He forgot sometimes that even when she wasn't paying attention to him, she was paying attention to him.  
  
“Nothing,” he mumbled as she drew him towards her, kissing her when she motioned for him to do so.  
  
“Have we gone back to lying now? You do remember the punishment for lying, right?” she asked, teasingly, though he knew she would go through with it if she thought he deserved it.  
  
Stiles took a deep breath and then let it out. “I'm excited about tomorrow,” he said instead.  
  
Tomorrow was the day he got to go back to Beacon Hills and visit his father. He hadn't been lying to Derek when he'd said he was taking time off for friends and family. It had been a while since he'd visited his father, and their annual visit to the graveyard was just a few days away. This was also why he didn't feel bad about missing out on the after-party – they had an early morning flight to catch.  
  
“Me too, but that's not what's got you fidgety,” she said and he could see the concern creeping into her eyes.  
  
“Don't worry about it,” he said, looping an arm around her waist and pulling her in for another kiss.  
  
“My job is to worry about it,” she said.  
  
He tried not to flinch.  
  
“Hey, what's wrong?” she asked and she drew him over to the couch where she could push him down and straddle him.  
  
“Nothing,” Stiles said, exasperated. “Just kiss me, okay? Kissing is good, kissing makes everything all better.” He tilted his head up invitingly.  
  
Her lips were soft on his but it was brief. “What do we need to make better?” she asked softly. “And don't say nothing. You won't like what comes next if you do.”  
  
He rolled his eyes but sighed and let his head fall back on the couch, his hands settled on her waist. She didn't always let him touch her during a scene but this wasn't officially a scene yet and she wasn't making a move to push him away. His eyes settled on her stomach and he let his thumbs creep under her shirt to draw circles on her skin. “It's stupid.”  
  
“Nothing is stupid when it comes to you”  
  
Again he rolled his eyes and this time she cupped his chin and forced him to meet her eyes.  
  
“Do the eye roll again, I dare you,” she said, her voice low and serious. He swallowed but said nothing. She continued, softening her voice. “You're one the smartest people I have ever met, Stiles. And I went to Harvard, so that's saying something. Don't sell yourself short. Especially not to me, I'll put you in your place.”  
  
“I want a collar,” he said with a swallow but he made sure he didn't break eye contact. “I want your collar. I want to be yours inside and outside the bedroom, and I want everyone to know it.”  
  
“We've had this conversation,” she said softly.  
  
“I know. That's why it's stupid.”  
  
The loss of her fingers under his chin made him want to wince but he didn't. With her hands now free, she reached back and unclipped her hair, letting it fall over her shoulders. She wasn't close enough for it to tickle his skin but he hoped she let him have some freedom tonight because he couldn't wait to bury his fingers in her hair.  
  
Then her lips were on his again, this time exactly how he wanted them, all crushing and hot and her tongue in his mouth, licking and demanding. He pulled her hips in further, wanting, needing the friction.  
  
When she broke away, he was breathless, though she seemed perfectly in control. As always. “I want to take you down so far tonight,” she said, making him swallow again. “Would you like that?”  
  
“Love... I'd love that... that sounds splendid... want you to take me down... so far... please...”  
  
Before he could start spewing poetry, she put a finger to his lips. “Go upstairs. Get undressed. Wait for me on the bed.”  
  
His hands gripped her waist tight when she moved to get off him. She raised an eyebrow at him and then, when he didn't move, she traced his bottom lip with her thumb. “Color?”  
  
The color was on the tip of his tongue and he didn't want to say it but he knew he needed something before they could start their scene. “Yellow – can you give me a hug first?”  
  
Without question, she slid her arms around him and he buried his face in her hair, which smelled like a mixture of rosemary and mint and always brought him back to memories of waking up with a face full of hair and a sleeping Lydia nestled in his arms. While kisses were fantastic and scenes settled him in ways he'd yet to find in any other activity, hugs were a way of calming him when he felt like he might shake loose of his own skin. Combined with the way Lydia always ran her nails through the hair on the back of his scalp and the way she never pulled away before he was ready, he sometimes felt like he was headed into subspace before they even pulled apart.  
  
“You good?” she asked, cupping his face in her hands and settling in so close that he nearly went cross-eyed. Her voice was low and tender and it was moments like this that made him feel like he was falling in love all over again.  
  
“I'm good,” he said.  
  
“Well, be a good boy and go do what I asked you to,” she said, hint of a smile decorating her face.  
  
“Yes, ma'am,” he said just as playfully. She rarely asked him to call her anything, though on public outings to D/s events, she requested to be called Lady Lydia. Sometimes, though it had only happened less than a handful of times, she requested Stiles to call her Mistress. Those were times when he had been especially bad.  
  
Upstairs, he undressed just as fast as he could, falling only twice before scrambling up onto the bed. Hands and knees planted, he was already half hard and borderline trembling with excitement. She wanted to take him down far and he knew he needed it.  
  
The door creaked as she entered, since he'd shut it just enough to make sure he heard her when she came in, but he kept his eyes trained on the bedding between his hands. A shiver coasted through him as she began running her fingertips over his body, starting at his calf and slowly trailing up, setting off ripples of sensation from the line she drew.  
  
“My boy,” she said softly, and he nearly jerked at her lips suddenly finding his ribcage. “God you're beautiful,” she mumbled and he closed his eyes. A cufflink snapped shut around his wrist and he sighed suddenly, feeling a kind of weight shifting off his shoulders. She trailed her fingers back down his body, ending delicately at his feet, making him shift with the tickle. Then she stopped moving and he jerked again when he felt her hands running up the back of his thighs. He tried to duck his head even further down when she separated his cheeks and kneaded them, digging her nails in just slightly as she pulled away. Sudden coldness had him yelping briefly as she fondled his balls and maneuvered him so he was settled snugly into his cock ring. When she went back to kneading his cheeks and pulling them apart, giving her a full view of his hole, he moaned and let his head hang.  
  
Up the other side of his body she went, ducking in and planting kisses nearly every inch of the way, finally snapping the other cuff on when she reached his hands and he nearly sagged with relief. Having the restraints, even unattached to anything, helped keep him grounded. Helped secure him inside his own skin.  
  
“Do you know how you look right now?” she whispered, dark and sultry and he opened his eyes finally to look up at her sitting on her knees in front of him.  
  
“Good enough to fuck?” he asked between pants. She had him all riled up already and she'd barely touched him.  
  
“Ah,” she said with a smile. “I knew I was forgetting something.” He let his eyes rake over her. Somewhere along the lines, she'd divested herself of the bodyguard uniform and slipped into a red and black lingerie, a skirt as the bottoms which he knew from past experience had no crotch. His mouth watered and he licked his lips as she settled back in front of him. “I'll need your mouth later but for now,” she said, slipping the ball gag into his mouth and securing it behind his head. It was his favorite – not too large but not too small, either. His mouth stretched over it but it wasn't painful. She slipped a toy ball in his hand, made for cats and small animals but used for today in case he needed to safe word. If he needed the scene to stop, he could drop the ball and it would jingle, being her cue to end it. He gripped the ball tight. “You get a choice tonight but only this one. Do you want the paddle or the flogger?”  
  
As she spoke, she laid the implements in question in front of him and he felt a drop of pre-come drip onto the bedspread. She didn't make things easier by all but molesting them, running her fingers delicately up and down the tails of the flogger and gripping the handle of the paddle like she was going to jerk it. When her hand traveled back to the flogger, he gave a jerky nod. While he liked both, liked the pain and liked the way they eased him under, the way they eased him from pain to pleasure and something akin to bliss, the paddle was still just this side of too much for what he was ready for. Of course, she could choose either one and she would wield it masterfully and he'd love every minute of it.  
  
“Good boy,” she said softly and he could feel his body flushing in response.  
  
When she stepped back, she let the tails tickle his back and over the curves of his ass, his thighs, brushing briefly against his balls and making him moan brokenly. Then she started, soft and slow, barely there brushes against his ass and back, gentle on his shoulders like he was under a delicate shower spray. Minutes, or maybe hours, or maybe only seconds went by and he felt the slow burn starting up, the heat swelling against the surface. It felt like she was everywhere and from the angle of the blows, she must have been circling around him, back and forth to get the places she wanted to with the flogger. She focused for a while on his ass, whipping faster and faster over one side and then the other before he was tensing and gritting his teeth into the ball gag, wondering when the endorphins were going to kick in.  
  
But then she stopped and the sound of his panting was suddenly loud in his own ears. Her nails against the sides of his ass sent ripples of the shakes down his arms and legs, her hands palming him open once again, her nails digging in making him feel so much more than he had the first time she'd opened him. A finger pressed delicately against his rim and he whined, wanting more, wanting less, not exactly knowing what he wanted but he wanted her to know what he wanted, even if he didn't, and just give it to him. She pushed but not hard enough to breach and then pulled back, disappeared, and when he felt her again, she was slick, one petite finger slipping in like he was made to be fucked by her fingers. He leaned back, pushing against her, wanting more fingers, wanting her to go deeper, and he tried to spread his legs for better access.  
  
She gripped his ankles and he stilled. “Are you forgetting who's in control, boy?” He grunted as her palm made sharp contact against his already abused skin. “Be still. I haven't put the paddle away, you know.”  
  
He swallowed the best he could around the ball gag and he nodded, though he wasn't sure if she could see him. When her fingers found his hole again, he willed himself to stay still, though his legs continued to tremble. She might have asked him to stay still but she didn't tell him to keep quiet, so while he focused on maintaining a rigid position, he whined and groaned against every pull and push against his rim, moaning openly when she reached three fingers and nudged his prostate. If she hadn't gagged him, he'd be begging like a dog for bacon and he knew it.  
  
Every stroke over his pleasure gland had him tensing, wanting to push back, wanting to stay still for her, and it felt like he was beginning to ride a high by the time she stopped.  
  
When her fingers pulled out, he whined shamelessly, wanting her to continue, grateful for the reprieve, but she tapped his ass consolingly as she gently pushed something back into him. Not her fingers. Something bigger, something angled just right so it was nestled right against his prostate once it was settled over his rim and locked into place.  
  
“Now,” she said. “Let's put that mouth to good use.” She unhooked the ball gag and pulled it out, and he cringed at the string of saliva that formed before it broke. Before he could even swallow the excess in his mouth, her lips found his and she pushed inside with her tongue, like she was searching for something. Behind her, she shoved some pillows into place under her hips and then she was leaning back, pushing him to stay when he tried to chase her down. “Make me come,” she said, her eyes locked on his as her fingers pulled her lingerie forward so she could fondle her own nipples.  
  
And there, lifted invitingly to him were her other lips, pink, wet, and already dripping. He swallowed, licked his lips, and bent slowly, breathing her in when he got close. She kept herself trimmed short, just like she kept him trimmed short, and he let his nose nuzzle the soft hair there before he gave a tentative lick. At the same time, he heard a click and his ass felt like it was rumbling to life. Instantly, he was moaning. Besides the vibrating plug, it had been so long since she'd let him fuck her with his tongue and it was one of his favorite pasttimes. He wanted to make it last but her fingers in his hair urged him on and he was helpless to resist. The plug didn't help, making him move forward and back like he was trying to chase the vibration while simultaneously move away from it, but it wasn't going anywhere.  
  
He teased around her with his tongue, licking the outsides first, knowing it drove her wild and relishing in his vengeance.  
  
“Didn't your parents teach you not to play with your food?” she asked. Before he could answer, she pushed his face into her crotch. “No talking. More licking,” she said and the vibration turned up a notch.  
  
Moaning, he let his tongue dip into her and up before settling over her clit, wrapping his lips around her and swirling his tongue back and forth. That got some incoherent sounds from her and he grinned. Over and over he did that, moaning with her as her hips started to jerk up and down the closer she got to orgasm. When it sounded like she was moments away, he took a chance and slid a finger inside her easily and hooked it just right, make her scream silently as her body shook with her orgasm.  
  
He continued to lap her up, licking her through it until she became too sensitive and she pushed him away, turning off the vibrator as she did so. She could easily come three or four times in one sitting, which he knew from experience, so he knew she must have more planned if she was pushing him away already.  
  
“I definitely,” she said as she regained her breath, “did not tell you that you could use your fingers.”  
  
Instantly, he lowered his eyes. She was right. He'd broken the rules by not asking first. And she might have given permission, too.  
  
“And I thought you were done with your punishment for the night.”  
  
Stiles eyed the paddle with dread as Lydia pushed him back so he could settle on his heels, his hands on his thighs.  
  
Her breasts were against his chest suddenly and he had to close his eyes against the swell of pleasure that shot through him. Then he realized what she was doing – she was reaching behind him to link his cuffs together. His arms were now secured together behind his back. Also, the vibration was back, making his thighs tense.  
  
Nails scraped against his chest and he hissed. “You're mine,” she said. “Mine to play with,” and her hands cupped his balls between his thighs. “Mine to torture,” and he winced as she gripped them just a shy too tight, her other hand finding its way to the plug to push and pull, a thrusting that had him near to begging. “Mine to punish,” and he sighed as her thumb swiped over the head of his dick, just how he liked it. “My boy. My beautiful, intelligent, gorgeous, free-willed boy,” she said, the tips of her fingers barely stroking his cock.  
  
“Yours,” he said softly.  
  
“Your orgasms belong to me,” she said, letting more of her fingers settle around his cock as they continued stroking, though it still wasn't even close to enough, her other hand still thrusting the vibrating plug against his prostate.  
  
“Yours,” he repeated breathlessly.  
  
“To give... or to deny,” she said and her fingers disappeared completely, the thrusting having stopped and the vibrator turned off.  
  
For a moment, he wanted to whine, to protest, to beg for her hands to come back, but just like that he held himself back. His breathing was heavy, like she was still stroking him though she wasn't touching him at all. “Yours,” he said again, feeling that floaty sensation he'd been craving all night finally kicking in.  
  
The smile that lit her face made it all worth it in the end. She pushed him back so he was laying on his hands before she wrapped her lips around him, her tongue swirling in a perfect imitation of him, her fingers gentle under his balls, tracing over his perineum, pushing the plug deeper inside, fucking him with it. But he stayed still, not even wanting to arch anymore, only wanting to give, to receive, to be what she wanted him to be. When he was panting and aching, wanting to worship her tongue for all it was doing to him, she pulled away, sliding up his body to kiss him, let him taste himself on her tongue. Moments passed, his breathing finally easing down, and then she was sliding back down, slipping him back into her mouth, all delicate licks and slow bobs as she looked up at him. When he tried to close his eyes, she pinched the back of his thigh, forcing him to meet her gaze. Quicker this time, he was aching and panting, aborted thrusts as she held his hips down. He wanted to apologize but she seemed to forgive him before he could.  
  
Again and again, she brought him to the edge, clicking on the vibrator every other time to bring him to there all the more quickly.  
  
Finally, he couldn't take it anymore and he resorted to begging. “Please... please Lydia, please... I'll be a good boy, please... please...”  
  
“Please, what?”  
  
“Please fuck me, please let me come, please get me off, please use me, please, please, I need, I just need, please, Lydia, my goddess, please...”  
  
“Oh baby, you're really straining, aren't you?” And it was that teasing tone, the tone that meant she wanted to be mean, that had him keening. “Turn over,” she said and she helped him roll, his body so tense and exhausted he couldn't do it by himself. The cuffs were unhooked from each other though she left them on his wrists, and she massaged his arms briefly before hefting his hips up. He pushed his face into the mattress, digging in and wiping stray tears that had escaped during the scene.  
  
The plug was drawn out slowly, pushed back in a few times, before exiting his body completely and he didn't know how he felt about that. He felt like he was about to shatter into a thousand pieces.  
  
Then there was something else at his hole and he knew it was her, her strap on, her cock. He'd felt it dozens of times before and he nearly wept, knowing how it was hooked inside to get her off as well, remembering the times she'd fucked him purely for her own pleasure and denied him his orgasm after she'd reached her own. I’m yelling She knew how much he hated that, how much he loved it, watching her getting off was one of his biggest turn ons, her low moans, the way she threw back her hair, her mouth open in her silent scream. Knowing that she was getting off on him, on his submission, made it all the more exquisite.  
  
It didn't take long for her to sink all the way into him and he slowly moved his arms up to his head, the tingles mostly gone after her massage, and he pillowed his forehead on them, ready to take whatever she gave.  
  
She was leisurely this time, moaning between words. “I wish this was a real cock. I wish I could feel you from the inside, wish I could brush your prostate just right with the head of my cock. But this is good, too. Watching you giving it up for me. Oh Stiles. You submit so beautifully for me.” Something hooked around his neck, soft and gentle. The belt on her bathrobe. “This what you want? Want my collar around your neck?” Her breathing was soft but hoarse, the way it sometimes got when they'd been fucking for hours, the way it was when she whispered how good he'd been as they cuddled after a scene. “You think I don't want that?” Of course this was when she brought it up, the moment when he was at his weakest and she at her strongest. “To be able to hook my fingers in against your throat and with a little tug, have you looking up at me with your big, beautiful eyes? It's gonna happen, Stiles.” He wondered how wet the bed was beneath his cock. “It's going to happen. You're mine in every way. And everyone will know it, I promise.” She slammed into him then and tugged on the belt, not enough to constrict his breathing, just enough to know it was there, to feel it, and he imagined a real collar pressing in against his throat, her fingers hooked into it as she fucked into him. Every other thrust brushed against his prostate but he could barely feel it, his cock dripping copiously onto the bed beneath him, his mind focused entirely on his throat, the feeling of this makeshift collar that made him hers in every way.  
  
The only way he knew she was coming was when she slowed her pace and her breathing hitched. He could imagine her, head thrown back, her cock deep inside him, and his eyes rolled. Then she was back to pushing into him, slowly, a lazy rocking of her hips, until finally she pulled out.  
  
He stayed as he was, his body finally not trembling, finally still and quiet, like his mind.  
  
“Stiles?” she said softly as she came to the front of the bed to look at him. He knew how he must look, half lidded eyes, flushed cheeks, ass still in the air, sheen of sweat on his forehead. And yet, she still looked pristine, only her temples mildly damp, her hair clinging deliciously to her skin. Stiles wanted to kiss it. Wanted to kiss her. Wanted to fall asleep in her arms and not get up for a week. He wanted to ride this high for as long as possible.  
  
Then she was grinning and cupping his cheek in her hand. “You are so beautiful,” she said.  
  
When she reached down for the ring, he made a noise of protest. “Please. Keep it on.”  
  
“You want me to keep it on?”  
  
“For now. Please?”  
  
For a moment, she stared at him. “Okay. As you wish. But up anyway. You need sustenance.”  
  
If she was surprised at his stain on the sheets, she didn't say anything, merely rolled up the soiled linens and threw them in the hamper before throwing fresh ones on. Then she curled up against the headboard and bid him to lean against her. From the bowl next to her, she fed him grapes, letting him lick her fingers with each one. It wasn't erotic or sexual. He couldn't quite describe what it was but getting her inside of him like that, even just a finger between bites, helped keep him submerged in subspace.  
  
“Do you want to shower before bed?” she asked.  
  
He grunted and hoped she understood.  
  
“Very well, we stay here until we grow into the bed and become one with it.”  
  
He grunted again, glad she understood.  
  
“I meant it, you know,” she said quietly.  
  
“Shh,” he said. “Later.”  
  
“No,” she said. “I've told you why not now. But I never told you when. And that bothers you.”  
  
“No,” he argued. “It doesn't bother me that I don't know when. It bothers me that when is not now. But you don't want it now and I respect that. I do. Now let me float, mmkay?”  
  
She chuckled and he wanted to kiss her eyes at the way they crinkled. “Float, my love. I'll be here if you start to drift.”

* * *

“Allison!” Stiles yelled as he dove across the police station. Allison waited patiently with open arms as he collapsed into her. Not only was she dating his best friend, but her and Lydia had trained in security and domination together. Plus, she was the Sheriff who had replaced his father when he moved up the line. Stiles had a soft spot for her.  
  
“Hey,” Scott's voice called from across the room. Stiles peeked over her shoulder to find Scott's head poking around the corner of the Sheriff's office. “No love for your boy?”  
  
“Scott!” he yelled before launching over desks and chairs to clear the room. Though it had been years, he'd done this stunt hundreds of times before and miraculously stayed on his feet without breaking a single thing before pressing into Scott. “My boy!”  
  
“And here we thought you were getting to be too good for us,” Allison laughed.  
  
“You're red carpet material now,” Scott said into his ear.  
  
Stiles jerked back with faux alarm. “Red carpet's got nothing on you! If I had to choose the red carpet or you, I'd choose you any day. You're my bro.”  
  
Scott's smile was easy but Stiles felt a pang when he noticed the relief there as well. Like some part of Scott honestly believed Stiles would forget about him.  
  
“So are you coming tomorrow?” Isaac said from the Sheriff's office.  
  
“It's like a clown car in there,” Stiles muttered. “Coming where?”  
  
“Does he not know?” Isaac said. “Is he not supposed to know? Was I supposed to keep my mouth shut?”  
  
Scott and Allison shared a smile and Stiles looked between them, a mixture of fondness for them and annoyance swirling inside him. “Know what?”  
  
“We're having a party tomorrow night,” Allison said. “And yes, he is supposed to know.” At that, both Scott and Allison turned to glare at him.  
  
“Okay but was this invitation sent in the mail?” he asked.  
  
“Yeah,” Scott said. “You told us not to invite you to shit like this online, too many hackers.”  
  
“That is true,” Stiles said, “however, Lydia has been opening all my mail first. There have been too many threats, apparently. She's trying to protect me. But... you know... I get a lot of mail. Maybe she hasn't gotten to it yet?”  
  
Allison's eyes furrowed, a mirror image of Scott's. “Threats? Are you okay?”  
  
“I'm fine, I mean, I have Lydia. As if anyone can get past her, right? Enough about me, what's the party for?”  
  
Isaac bounded out of the office, his curls bouncing adorably. They must have finally convinced him to grow it out a tiny bit and Stiles couldn't help but compare him to an adorable puppy. Then his eyes locked onto his neck.  
  
“Isn't it gorgeous?” Isaac said proudly.  
  
Stiles felt his mouth go dry. Isaac, Allison, and Scott had been dating on and off for several years now, sometimes only two of them exclusively. Isaac had even gone to Europe for a year to travel on his own, which had driven Scott and Allison crazy. While the world had gotten better with rights for subs over the last few years, they still hadn't felt comfortable letting him wander a foreign country alone. Of course, it had been during one of their break ups and neither of them could put a foot down about it without owning up to their feelings. And sometimes, Scott and Allison could be very stubborn in that department.  
  
Though, apparently once they committed, they went all the way. Isaac's collar was, indeed, gorgeous. It had diamonds on either side of a chain link that was right under his chin, heart shaped links on either side surrounded by three different colored gemstones. He reached up as if to touch it before he caught himself. It was rude to touch another sub's collar without asking.  
  
“We had it specially made,” Scott said. “We wanted it to reflect us and our relationship.”  
  
“So you're all officially committed to each other now?” Stiles asked softly.  
  
“No other way we wanted it to be.” Scott reached over and hooked a finger in one of the links and drew Isaac towards him. The dopey smile on Isaac's face spoke volumes.  
  
“Hey, I want to show you something,” Allison said and motioned for Stiles to follow her. Down in the basement, they kept all the heavy duty weapons locked up tight. It was the one room Stiles had never felt an urge to break into when his father had worked there. Besides the fact that so many weapons scared him a little, the tanning his father would have given him had he found out scared him more. He hadn't seen the inside often but when Allison opened the door, he grabbed her arm. It was beautiful, the walls decorated with shotguns and rifles, drawers filled with pistols and labeled accordingly, but he still didn't trust himself. He needed his hands to be preoccupied lest he stumble and accidentally knock into a gun. “None of them are loaded, Stiles. But I appreciate your thoughtfulness. Here, we wanted to give you something.” She opened a drawer labeled knives and he sucked in a breath. Guns he hated, he'd seen his father get shot one too many times, but knives were okay. He'd taken a few classes featuring putting a closed up knife in his palm to maximize punching damage.  
  
The one Allison pulled out of the drawer was silver and blue with brass knuckles along the edges and he glanced at her before letting go of her arm. It was weighted perfectly, heavy enough to symbolize the damage it could do but light enough that he could probably pocket it and forget it was there. Inscribed on the side was a heart and their initials: S. A. I.  
  
“Like a character out of an anime,” he muttered. She batted at his head playfully and she gave an oomph when he pulled her into a solid hug. “Thank you. Now if only I can get Lydia to do something like this.”  
  
“You mean collar you?” Allison said though it was less a question and more a statement.  
  
“Ah, so you two still talk regularly,” he said.  
  
“Actually, we don't. Not as often as we used to. Not as often as I'd like. But the look on your face when you saw Isaac's collar? That said it all.”  
  
He flipped the knife open and studied the blade, nearly nicking himself when he stupidly slid his thumb across it to determine how sharp it was. Why did people do that? Knives were meant to be sharp and yet, they always seemed shocked when it actually cut them.  
  
“You're her sub. She cares for you a great deal,” Allison said.  
  
Stiles looked at her sadly. “We've been together for nearly a year. I'm all in. I'm one hundred percent in. If I could give her a collar of my own, I would. In a heartbeat. Why does it feel like she's not all in?”  
  
“Stiles...”  
  
“Seriously. Why. I want to be with her, I want her to know, I want the world to know, I want to sing it from the heavens because let me tell you, as romantic as Scott is, he learned from the fucking best, okay. Who do you think helped him plan your first date, huh? Or his first date with Isaac? You think we haven't made blueprints of our fantasy weddings? Because wow have I got news for you.” He slid the knife back into place and sunk his fingers into the brass knuckles. “I don't feel like her sub without it.”  
  
“Did you hear about the sub in Miami?” Allison asked suddenly.  
  
Stiles shook his head. “No.”  
  
“Good. Have you heard about the subs in Alaska?”  
  
Stiles thought for a moment. “The two friends who got kidnapped?”  
  
“Yeah. That's not where the story ends but I applaud Lydia if that's as much as you know about it. Stiles, the public thinks you're a Dom.”  
  
“So? I'm red carpet material now. They'll accept it.”  
  
“Stiles... you're not red carpet material yet. You can walk down it, hell, we all know you deserve to walk down it whether the movie is yours or not. But the rest of the world doesn't know that yet. You've only had one major role. You've got a ways to go. You'll get there, we all know you'll get there. But she's looking out for you. If you come out as a sub now, you're going to be in so much more danger. And when people audition you, they're not going to see the fantastic, talented, beautiful Stiles we all know and love, they're going to see a twink of a sub with a past of lying about being a Dom.”  
  
“I never lied to them!”  
  
“They won't see it like that.”  
  
He couldn't help the sulk on his face. “You think I'm a twink?”  
  
She ignored him. “Think about your father.” Stiles flinched as if he'd been slapped. She continued. “Big hot shot politician with a famous actor for a son, who turns out isn't the Dom he's propped himself up to be, but is in fact a sub in a scandalous affair with his bodyguard Dom.”  
  
“You sure know how to go for the low blows,” Stiles said.  
  
“I tell it like it is,” she said apologetically.  
  
“And I love you for it. Still.” He thought for a moment before renewing his ire. “Still, it's not about them. My relationship with Lydia isn't about the fans or my career or about my dad. It's about us two. It's about us being on equal ground.” When she raised an eyebrow, he scoffed. “You know what I mean. She might be my Dom and I her sub but it's still equal ground of a sort. It's still a give and take relationship. And it feels like... sometimes it feels like she's waiting. For a reason. A get out of jail free card.”  
  
“You think she thinks of you as jail?” Allison asked incredulously.  
  
“I think sometimes she thinks of me as her job instead of a significant other,” he said, remembering her words the previous night.  
  
“Stiles, that's not how she thinks of you.”  
  
“What if another sub comes by? A sub she doesn't have to worry about or go through mail for, someone who isn't always in danger or isn't always kissing other people on screen? Someone whose father isn't a politician? Maybe I don't even have the right to bring her into my fucked up life.”  
  
Allison was silent for a moment, considering him. “Do you really mean that? Do you really want to break up with her?”  
  
The rush of emotions shocked him, the way his jaw tensed up against the sudden threat of tears. No, he didn't want to break up with her, he didn't want to lose her. “I want her to be happy,” he said finally. “And sometimes I think she's not.”  
  
“Stiles,” Allison said softly but they were interrupted by the sound of his phone going off for a text message. It was Lydia outside to pick him up. They were already late for dinner with his father and he was a busy man.  
  
“I have to go,” he said, trying to rein in his emotions. “I'll remind Lydia about the party. We'll be there, wouldn't miss it for the world.” He pecked her on the cheek before bounding up the stairs, yelling a brief farewell to Scott and Isaac as he slammed through the front door.

* * *

The party started well. Once he'd mentioned the party to Lydia, she'd nearly squeaked with apologies. It unnerved him the way she'd dissolved, talking about how stressed she'd been and how it slipped her mind. It wasn't like Lydia and he wondered if it was a secret message. Her stress hadn't been some nameless work thing. Stiles was her work. Stiles stressed her out.  
  
But he'd swallowed it and shrugged it off the best he could. She seemed genuinely apologetic and had meant to tell him and certainly wasn't going to skip out on the party, so it was all okay. Their dinner with his father had been rushed but nice. Part of him was glad when his father ordered steak and potatoes – the way his clothes seemed to hang off of him suggested that while he may not have been eating unhealthy food, he probably wasn't eating healthy food either. It worried Stiles and he was glad when Lydia mentioned it instead of him, though his father had shot him a look anyway like her commenting on it was his fault.  
  
Scott, Allison, and Isaac lived in a fairly large house. Allison pulled in a meager amount running the town from the seat of Sheriff, but Scott made decent money from being a veterinarian. And Isaac was the real money-maker, since just one photoshoot was enough to make even Stiles's jaw drop. The decorations were modest, just a few stars and hearts dangling around the house, but it wasn't the house that was important. The people were what made the party special.  
  
Erica, Boyd, and Derek were already there, Boyd standing behind Derek against the counter and Derek's back to his chest. They both looked incredibly content and comfortable and it immediately put Stiles on edge at the way Lydia had already branched off from him in search of Allison.  
  
Erica was off in the den with a couple of Isaac's model friends, including a woman named Malia he'd heard Erica and Lydia talking about recently. She'd apparently just realized she was a Switch, more Dom than sub like Scott, and they'd been discussing different communities and classes for her to take to get the best training. She was pretty, in a drop dead gorgeous kind of way, but her eyes held a kind of wildness to them, a self-consciousness he might have found endearing once. He knew she'd find a good sub and she'd be a good Dom. She had that vibe.  
  
Isaac seemed to have gotten into his Adderall or something, though. The way he flitted from room to room tired even Stiles out, and he was usually the energy of the party. He looked happy, though. Or rather, ecstatic, his grin lighting up each room, staying just long enough to make some offhandedly self-deprecating yet somehow endearing comment before bouncing his way to the next room. It was both intoxicating and nauseating, and Stiles grabbed himself a beer to even it out.  
  
“I'm glad you could come,” Scott said before looping an arm around his shoulder.  
  
“As if I'd miss it. Dude, seriously. You're my bro. You have but to say the word and I'm here.”  
  
“Yeah?” Scott asked shyly and Stiles wanted to deck him and hug him at the same time.  
  
“Yeah, you dingleberry Jeez, don't ever doubt it. You're the one constant in my life, no matter what.”  
  
“I thought I was your constant,” Lydia said, coming up behind them.  
  
“You're a constant,” he said before he could bite his tongue. She crinkled her forehead at him and he took a swig of beer. “I love you,” he said.  
  
“I love you, too,” she said distractedly. Then her eyes flickered over his shoulder and behind him and Stiles turned.  
  
And felt his stomach drop. There in the doorway was Jackson, toeing off his shoes and looking about as gorgeous as one of Isaac's model friends. Word didn't take long to get back to Isaac and when Jackson's arms were suddenly full of curly haired adorableness the next second, no one was surprised. They were as close as Scott and Stiles, and had spent more time apart from each other.  
  
Stiles glanced back at Lydia. Years ago, before he'd even met her, he'd heard about her and Jackson having a relationship. Even the small bits he'd been able to wean from her had proven that he hadn't been just an ex. He was the ex. The one that got away.  
  
And the look in her eyes solidified that theory. Without even a glance, she walked away from Stiles to greet Jackson. He wondered how long it had been since they'd seen each other. How long since they'd spoken.  
  
Isaac had gone to great lengths to describe in detail the shenanigans he and Jackson had gotten into in Europe. Stiles knew from those stories that Jackson had, while originally claimed himself to be a Dom, eventually sank into being a sub, his true calling in life.  
  
Seeing Lydia and Jackson talking together made his heart seize up. Jackson was the kind of sub Lydia needed. He was tall, all muscles and strength. He was hot, Stiles couldn't deny that. Chiseled jaw and smooth skin, no stupid moles to mar the masterpiece. And he wasn't the son of a politician. Hell, he could probably get a job like Isaac had, with photo-shoots maybe once a month but otherwise, calm and easy lives. Didn't Lydia deserve that?  
  
Stiles finished his beer.  
  
They schmoozed. Jackson had apparently brought a friend with him, a Danny someone or other, someone Lydia and Jackson used to be friends with, so not only did she have one old flame to chat up, she had an old friend to catch up with as well. And there were Isaac, Allison, and Scott petting each other and kissing. Boyd still touching Derek like he was starved for it, and Derek may as well have been for all he was eating it up with a spoon. Even when Erica passed by them, she always ran a hand down Derek's arm and he positively preened with delight.  
By the time Stiles had finished his fourth beer, he'd made a dozen circuits of the house and it seemed like the beer was doing nothing to slow him down. In fact, he seemed to be speeding up.  
  
“Hey,” Erica said as he stumbled into the railing at the top of the stairs. “How about you slow down, drink some water?”  
  
“How about you suck it?” Stiles said.  
  
“Excuse me?” she retaliated instantly.  
  
“I didn't mean it,” he said, waving her off clumsily. “Stupid subs all over the place, flaunting their collars, being cared for by their Doms, doing that touching thing and the kissing thing and the being together thing, it's disgusting.”  
  
Erica cocked her head to the side. “Did something happen with you and Lydia?”  
  
“Is she here? Is she next to me? Has she even noticed me in the last few hours? I could have launched myself out a window for all she cares,” he said. He wondered where it was all coming from. He didn't really want to launch himself out of a window but he really didn't think she would have noticed if he had. Part of him knew he was being ridiculous and the other part just didn't care. “I'm being stupid. Leave me to my drunken wandering, I'll burn it all off eventually.”  
  
“Maybe you need to go home and sleep it off,” she said, putting a hand on his elbow to tug him along.  
  
“I don't need a fucking babysitter,” he said, perhaps a little too loudly. Luckily they were upstairs and only a couple nearby turned to glance at them before continuing their conversation. “I'm a big boy. I can handle myself.”  
  
“You're proving that quite well. Come on.”  
  
“Seriously,” he said quietly, forcing himself to look her in the eye despite the wobbling. “I can handle myself. I don't need a knight in shining armor. I need an equal.”  
  
She sighed at him but he liked to think he got through to her, considering she did drop her hand off his elbow. “Okay. But you can't drive home. Do you want me to get Lydia?”  
  
“No, she's busy. She has friends. And she's doing the talking thing.”  
  
She ran her fingers through her hair and Stiles realized how beautiful she was. “How about I drive you home?”  
  
“Fine. Whatever.”  
  
Stiles wandered out to the car while Erica let Lydia know what was going on. Stiles kicked himself for being upset when Erica was the one that came back out to drive him home and not Lydia.  
  
Erica was silent the entire drive and Stiles sat in the back of his car fumbling with his phone. He had a mantra going on inside his head, Don't send any messages, don't send any messages, but he's pretty sure a few got through before he could grasp sobriety and delete them.  
  
Randomly, he clicked on his mail, something he hadn't checked in weeks, and whistled at the amount of mail that was waiting for him. Even though Lydia usually checked his mail, something they'd both agreed on (she needed something to do while she waited for him during filming and he was rather relieved at not having to sift through the junk every day), there was still hundreds of messages in his inbox. Lazily, he scrolled through them, wondering briefly if maybe he needed to increase the size of his cock to get Lydia to stay with him and he wondered if any of these junk messages had any merit. He laughed at a message Scott had sent him a week ago and kicked himself in the ass for not seeing it sooner and maybe they could have laughed about it at the party tonight.  
  
Then he saw an email that caught his eye. The subject line read, “I see you” which made him giggle at first until he read the body of the email. It explained in detail exactly how they were going to kill Stiles, starting first with how they planned to rape and torture him. Drunkenness quickly soared out the window the moment he read the bottom. “See you tonight” written right before his complete address in Beacon Hills.  
  
The car stopped and Stiles jumped. Erica turned in her seat. “Want me to walk you to the door?”  
  
Wordlessly, he handed her the phone so she could read the email. He knew when she'd gotten to the end when she locked the doors and put the car in gear, rolling down the road and away from his apartment building. Stiles realized then that he was shaking and suddenly he wanted his phone back so he could call Lydia. He just needed to hear her voice.  
  
A little while later, they pulled up to an unfamiliar building and Erica was out and opening the door for Stiles before he'd even had the time to register that they'd stopped moving. She led him inside with a hand on the small of his back but she was in full security mode, with a hint of Dom mode. He might not be her sub but he was a sub and sometimes that brought it out in people. Stiles usually hated it but today he welcomed it. A hand on the small of his back was precisely the kind of thing he needed.  
  
Inside, Erica checked all the rooms before letting her guard down and acquiring a blanket to put around Stiles's shoulders. He was still shaking but they weren't as violent anymore.  
  
“Why would they do that? Why would someone threaten me like that? What's the point?”  
  
“No one knows. Some people are just whack-jobs.  
  
A thought occurred to him and he looked up at Erica sharply. “Don't tell my dad.”  
  
“It's probably a little too late for that.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
“Because I already told Lydia and she's contracted with your father to be your bodyguard. It would be unprofessional of her to keep this from him.”  
  
“You told Lydia?”  
  
“Of course I did.”  
  
“She was busy, she had friends to talk with, exes to fall back in love with. She doesn't need this... no one needs any of this...” he said, curling in on himself.  
  
“Don't be an idiot,” she said with a swat to his head. He scowled at her from between the folds of the blanket. “Jackson and Danny are together.” His scowl disappeared. “She and Danny are way too possessive to be willing to share a sub. Besides, she's head over heels for you.”  
  
He snorted but right then, the door opened.  
  
“I'm here!” Lydia called. They were in a room far away from the front entrance, just in case.  
  
Erica didn't even move. “I cannot tell you how many traffic violations she just made to get here but I am one hundred percent certain that she is every cop's wet dream right now.”  
  
“Well, that's an interesting image,” he mumbled. Lydia resembled a cross between a ghost and a banshee, her hair wild around her face, her skin pale, her eyes wide with worry. “Hey babe,” he said softly.  
  
“Are you all right?” she asked as she settled in front of him, worry and relief radiating in waves across her face.  
  
“Well, I'm still alive, so there's that.”  
  
“Please don't joke about this,” she said.  
  
“I wasn't exactly joking, it's not like I accidentally died but I'm really good at pretending to be alive.”  
  
Lydia stared at him for all of two seconds before rolling her eyes and heaving a deep sigh. “So you're okay? Really?”  
  
He shrugged, part of the blanket falling off his shoulder. “It was a little scary. I'm glad I checked my email before Erica took off.”  
  
Lydia grabbed the blanket and placed her forehead against his, and he watched her knuckles turn white where she gripped the cloth. “I should have been more diligent.”  
  
“Hey, no, it's not your fault, you didn't send the email.”  
  
“I'm your bodyguard, Stiles. I'm supposed to watch out for these things. I'm also your Dom. Keeping you safe is twice my duty.”  
  
“So I'm your duty now?”  
  
“What?” She pulled back from him to look him in the eye.  
  
Alcohol, while scared away by adrenalin, had lingered enough to make his tongue loose. “I'm your job... I'm your duty... What next? A mildly unpleasant pasttime?”  
  
Lydia glanced over her shoulder at Erica, who shrugged, before glancing back at Stiles.  
  
“Stop being an idiot.” Then she stood up and looked at Erica again. “Be honest with me, does Derek get shit like this happening to him?”  
  
“How do you mean? The anxiety over our relationship or the death threats?”  
  
Both Lydia and Stiles stared at her in surprise.  
  
“Either way, the answer is no. I like to think it's because he's such a sweetheart, he knows we love him to the moon and back and no one in the world could ever hate him, but I'm mostly sure it's also because he's collared by two rather powerful and possessive people.” Then she shrugged. “Collars do tend to make a different.” Without waiting for a reaction, she turned and left the building, leaving the two to gape at where she'd been.  
  
When Lydia turned back to Stiles, the words started coming out of his mouth. “No. No, no, no. No way.”  
  
“You don't even know what I'm going to say.”  
  
“I am pretty sure you're going to say something along the lines of 'well okay maybe I should collar you, Stiles' and that's not what I want, I don't want that, so no.”  
  
“You were literally just yelling at me for not collaring you. And now you don't want me to?” She crossed her arms over her chest and Stiles felt himself vibrate, the night beginning to overload him but he held on.  
  
“You don't want to collar me! Why should some asshat with a death wish make a difference? Besides, I don't want to hide behind you, I don't need a knight in shining armor! When you collar me, I want it to be because you want to collar me, not because other people twisted your arm into it!”  
  
“Isn't that what you've been doing?”  
  
That pulled him up short. “I didn't think I could twist your arm into doing anything.”  
  
“If anyone could, it would be you.”  
  
He swallowed.  
  
“You don't get it,” she said, taking a seat in a chair opposite him. “I'm in love with you. I have a collar for you.”  
  
“You do??” he nearly shrieked.  
  
“Shut up,” she said with a smile. “Yeah, I have a collar for you. God, Stiles, I want to see my collar around your throat so bad, I've dreamt about it. And let me tell you, your collar puts Isaac's to shame.”  
  
A blossoming of warmth started in his stomach and he hoped to god it wasn't the beer acting up. My collar.  
  
“And I want to,” she continued. “I want to collar you. Now. Right now. If I had your collar on me, it would've been around your throat the minute I walked in that door. Because the minute I heard you were in danger, I left. I don't think I even told anyone. I just left. All I could think was, mine and how dare they. And I just needed to get home to you, to touch you, to make sure you're okay. To apologize for fucking up. Whoever that asshat was, he didn't make me want to collar you to protect you. He made me realize, I should have collared you a long time ago.”  
  
A breath of a chuckle snuck out of him. “Yeah?”  
  
“Yeah. Now what the hell are you doing all the way over there, didn't I tell you I wanted to touch you?”

* * *

Three weeks later, they were back in Beacon Hills, again at Scott, Allison, and Isaac's house but this time, Stiles was the one running around like he'd forgotten to take his Adderall. He couldn't stop smiling, Lydia got mildly intoxicated for the first time ever and crooned her undying love to him, Scott and Allison gave him supporting hugs, and Isaac? Isaac reached out as if to touch his collar, his jaw dropped and his eyes wide with aw, before he caught himself and snatched his hand back. “You're a lucky guy,” he said.  
  
“Yeah, I know.” Then he looked back at the three Doms, laughing amongst each other. “We both are.”

**Author's Note:**

> A little birdie (lazarusthefirst) mentioned another little sex scene to round it off would be nice. So. Keep a look out for that because I agree.


End file.
